Nadir's Lament
by Miss Belle Sutcliff
Summary: (Also known as 'Whatever Happened to My Part.') Nadir, after years of painful silence, finally expresses his raw anger at having not been included in Andrew Lloyd Webber's musical sensation, 'The Phantom of the Opera.'


**Author's Note: I have writer's block on my main story, and I was listening to Diva's Lament (Whatever Happened to My Part) from Spamalot, and this happened. *sigh* Gotta love Nadir.**

 **Also, this takes place during 'Wandering Child.' :)**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters. I only own myself.**

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Nadir's Lament

Erik was beyond furious. That foolish de Chagny boy had spoiled everything! He had been _this close_ to finally being able to have Christine, when that…that _fop_ had pranced in on his pretty white horse and taken her away.

"Bravo, monsieur! Such spirited words!" he shouted, clenching the Punjab lasso in his hand.

"More tricks, monsieur?" the fop shouted back, waving his fist in the air like some sort of crazed madman.

"Let's see, monsieur, how far you dare go!"

"More deception? More violence?"

"Raoul…" Christine started, attempting to pull the young aristocrat away from the Phantom, who had death in his eyes. But foolish Raoul brushed her off and ran up to a murderous Erik with the frenzy of a forgotten prima donna on crack.

"That's right, keep walking this way!" Erik taunted, twirling the lasso in a way that wouldn't have been out of place on a cowboy. Or Wonder Woman.

"You can't win her love by making her your prisoner," cried de Chagny, flailing his arms in the air to emphasize his pathetic point.

"Raoul, don't," Christine said, taking hold of his arm. She never finished, for she was interrupted by a fourth guest in the cemetery.

" _What ever happened to my part?"_ The new, heavily accented voice caught all three parties' attention. Erik groaned as he recognized the voice.

"Nadir, get out of here," he said without looking at his supposed friend. "Can't you see I'm trying to battle with my arch-nemesis here?" It was then he actually glanced at the former daroga. Erik gasped in disgust and shock, causing Christine and Raoul to look as well. Christine's eyes widened like saucers, and her jaw dropped to the floor, while Raoul jumped behind a headstone. The sound of retching could be heard by the other three.

"Kill it," the viscount said when he at last emerged. "Kill it with fire."

What the Persian wore was nothing short of vulgar, provocative, and downright _nasty._ The former daroga of Mazenderan wore black thigh-high fishnet stockings, red high heels, and a red silk robe with black lace. None of the members of our beloved love triangle wanted to know what lay beneath that robe.

" _It was exciting at the start._

 _Now we're halfway through Act Two…"_

The Persian stuck out his index and middle finger and shook his hand violently.

" _And I've had nothing yet to do!"_

Nadir took a step forward, and the other three took two steps back. Nadir another step forward, Erik, Raoul, and Christine another back.

"I don't know this man," Erik whispered in horror.

" _I've been offstage far too long!_

 _It's been ages since I had a song."_

Nadir rubbed his temples and wiped away a tear that had managed to slip out of one of his dark brown eyes.

"It's freezing out here," Christine murmured. "How is he not shivering?"

" _This is one unhappy diva._

 _ALW has deceived him._

 _There is nothing I can sing from my heart._

 _Whatever happened to my part?"_

Nadir sank down onto the snowy ground, finally starting to weep.

"Erik," Christine whispered, "He's your friend! Go comfort him!"

"Christine, he's insane! Look at him!" Erik argued. "He's gone apey!" Nadir rolled around on the snow, wailing like a baby.

"Erik," Christine said with a no-nonsense tone that made both Erik and Raoul cringe.

"Fine," he said and started over to the sobbing Persian, but stopped when the latter continued his lament.

" _I am sick of my career,_

 _Always starting second gear._

 _Up to here, with frustration and with fears."_

He raised his hand to his forehead to emphasize his point.

"Nadir," said the Phantom hesitantly. He held his hand out as if he were trying to calm a rabid dog. "Nadir, you can stop. We can talk to Monsieur Webber tomorrow if you like. But for God's sake, shut up and put some proper clothes on!"

" _I've no Grammy, no rewards._

 _I've no Tony awards."_

"Tony awards?" Erik muttered but took another step closer to the sniveling Persian, despite his mind screaming at him to _run._ This proved to be a mistake. Nadir took this opportunity to grab Erik's pant leg.

" _I'm constantly replaced by Madame Giry!"_

"Get off of me!"

" _Madame Giry!"_

Nadir then proceeded to wrap himself around Erik's leg, not unlike a way a petulant child might its mother at the toy store when the latter had promptly refused to buy whatever fascinating toy for which the former had desperately begged for five minutes.

"Have you gone mad?"

" _Whatever happened to my show?_

 _I was a hit, now I don't know."_

"You were never a hit, Daroga," Erik argued. "It's a commonly known fact that the fangirls love me much more than you."

" _I'm in the Opera most nights,_

 _Watching guys dancing in tights."_

"Nadir, I'm serious. Stop this nonsense immediately, or I will be forced to…"

"Erik!" The masked man sighed at Christine's protest, but before he could say another word, Nadir continued.

" _I might as well go to the pub."_

"If it makes you feel any better…"

" _They've been out searching for a shrub,_

 _Out shopping for a bush._

 _Well, they can kiss my tush!"_

"That's nice, Nadir."

The Persian finally released Erik to point to himself.

" _It seems to me they've really lost the plot._

 _Whatever happened to my…"_

He jumped to his feet and shook his fist.

" _I'll call my agent, dammit!_

 _Whatever happened to my…"_

He pointed to Erik.

"Not yours!"

Then to Christine.

"Not yours!" He took in a deep breath. _But my…PART!"_

Erik stared for a moment at the lingerie-clad man before him, then turned abruptly and promptly fled the cemetery, leaving a soprano and a fop to deal with the Persian loon that Erik was becoming ashamed to claim he knew.

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 **Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed it! Also, if you're reading _The Madness of the Night,_ the next update should be either tomorrow or Saturday. I know; I suck.**

 **-The Puppeteer Patient 120402**


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